


Sweet

by imanadultiguess



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: And maybe Charlie has an animal play kink or something, But it's all really soft and sweet, Charlie takes advantage, Dee is drunk, F/M, I don't even know how to tag this, It's way softer than it sounds, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 21:33:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14941772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imanadultiguess/pseuds/imanadultiguess
Summary: "Either way, Dee is a really nice when she’s drunk.  She’s soft and encouraging and a little silly, and Charlie really, really likes it."





	Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> The coupla' times that Dee has been really drunk, she's been nice. And I just really ship her and Charlie.

Here’s the thing: Dee’s  _ really  _ nice when she’s drunk.  She says nice things, and she gets very tactile, and it’s something that Charlie just . . . really likes.  

It’s nice, seeing her like that, because maybe that’s how she really is.  The bitchy exterior, the shrill screeching, the collusion and sadism--Charlie sometimes wonders if that’s not the  _ real  _ Dee.  If that’s just the armor she puts on because the guys make fun of her.  (And maybe the only reason she sticks around with the guys is because they’re the only friends she has.)

As with most things, he doesn’t  _ know _ .  It’s just a theory.  Not even really a theory, just an idea.  Like his idea that cats and spiders  _ have _ been in communication since the dawn of time and that’s why witches and spiders and cats get all wrapped up together in mythology.  He doesn’t have any proof, it’s just something he thinks about sometimes. 

And when Dee is really drunk, like, really drunk, and away from Dennis and Mac and Frank, Charlie can’t stop himself from going to her.  

He’s been doing it for about a year now, and he doesn’t think Dee remembers when it happens.  If she does, she hides it. But he’s pretty sure she just doesn’t remember; otherwise she probably would’ve, like, murdered him by now or something.  Or she would have told Mac and Dennis and they would’ve made fun of him or something. 

There’s a slim possibility it’s all part of a long con, but really, none of them have the attention to pull a year-long con.

Either way, Dee is a really nice when she’s drunk.  She’s soft and encouraging and a little silly, and Charlie really, really likes it.  A nagging part of him wanders if this isn’t, like, sexual assault, because she’s drunk and he’s benefitting, but he’s overlooked a lot of crimes committed by himself and friends, so what’s  one more? Especially if she doesn’t remember. 

She’d left Paddy’s about an hour or so ago, incredibly wasted, bitching at Dennis and Frank while they laughed.  And after he’d wrapped up everything, and he’d done it all very fast, he excused himself. Not that Mac or Dennis had even noticed.  

And so now, here he was, at her apartment door, shifting his weight from foot to foot, debating whether or not he should knock.  

It feels so good, he tells himself.  Soft, sweet Sweet Dee, rubbing his scalp, saying nice things.  And his only real hesitation isn’t his conscience, it’s the fear that she’ll already be passed out, that he’ll have missed his opportunity, and the regret will just, you know, really suck.

He steels his guts and knocks.  

~~

Throughout his life, Charlie’s needed to make himself smaller.  Maybe it was shying away from Uncle Jack’s touches or hiding from the strange Santa Clauses who smelled kinda skunky, but the landscape of his life had always been plagued with times that he needed to be small.  And when Dee is drunk, Charlie makes himself smaller, but being small with Dee is drastically different than all of those other times. 

He’s pulled his knees up to his chest, so that he can curl up beside her and lays his head in her lap while they watch TV.  But really, he’s not watching TV, he’s reveling in the soft touches to his scalp, her painted nails lightly grazing over the sensitive skin of his neck.  The hair on his arms stand on end, and he tries not to shiver too much lest she change what she’s doing. 

“Have we—” Dee cuts herself off.  Charlie’s eyes widen. “Did we do this before?” she slurs.  

Dread fills up his stomach, and before he knows it, he’s answering in the affirmative.  

“Huh.”  No anger.  No nothing in fact.  Just acceptance that he’s been here before.  That she’s petted him before. 

“Sometimes. . .” he starts.  And he doesn’t know why he starts, but he does.  And then, to his surprise, he continues, “Sometimes you, um, like, call me names.”

She scoffs.  “What? That is just, that is so mean.  You don't need that shit.”

“No, no, they’re, like, good names.  Like, I like them. A lot.”

“You like when people call you names?”

“No, no, no, like, erm…”  His face burns. He nuzzles against her thigh, making himself even smaller.  “Like, sometimes, you—like, last time, you pulled me into your lap and called me kitten.”

Dee’s eyes widen, and she laughs again, free of the usual condemnation that accompanies her sobriety.  “That’s just so sweet, Charlie. You’re such a sweetheart. You liked that?” She clicks her tongue, shaking her head.  “That’s just so sweet. Sweet Charlie.” Her nails lightly scrape over his cheek and her attention returns to the TV screen.  

There’s no shame when Dee is drunk.  He doesn’t need to feel shame and she can’t when she’s like this.  Sometimes she kisses him, sometimes he goes down on her, sometimes they just lay on the couch and cuddle, but she’s always really nice and soft and Charlie can be small and soft with her.

He hopes one day she won’t have to be shit-faced, that maybe she can be nice like this when she’s sober.  That she’ll be confident when she’s sober, that's she'll want to be nice to him when she's sober. He hopes that one day she’ll remember that she called him “kitten” or “handsome” or “cutie-patootie.”  He hopes that one day the retrospection won’t make him feel emasculated, that he won't hear Mac and Dennis and Frank's jeering voices in his head, telling him to be a man.

But for now, this is enough; more than he ever expected, really.  He smiles up at drunk Dee and she smiles back and traces the bridge of his nose.  She leans down to let her lips meet his, and there’s no tongue, minimal moisture, and it’s just the type of kiss that Charlie really likes.  "You're a good kisser, Dee."  That's probably not true by everyone else's standards, but he likes the way she kisses him.  To him, she's a good kisser.

“Silly kitten,” she murmurs, scrubbing his head playfully.  “Do you want, like, a blanket?”

He shakes his head. He would like a blanket; it's just he wants to remain like this even more.  There’s an easy, comfortable silence that passes. Dee strokes his throat and Charlie nuzzles against her thigh.

“Hey, Charlie?” 

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m gonna puke.”

He gets to his feet.  “Okay, I’ll hold your hair.”  

“See, that’s just--that’s just so sweet,” she slurs.  “You’re such a sweetheart, Charlie.”

“You’re really easy to be sweet to.”

And she smiles brightly at him before racing to the toilet to empty her stomach of all the alcohol she's consumed.  


End file.
